


Chosen

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Jonsa, Dreams, F/M, Modern AU, donor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: And then, on a deceptively ordinary day, he returned home to listen to a voicemail message that changed his life…“Hello…um…hi…” the woman cleared her throat. “Uh, you-you don’t know me – and feel free to completely ignore this message but….well…you did check the box about future contact and you left a really long list of phone numbers, so I kind of thought that…um…maybe…” she huffed, clearly annoyed at herself before letting out a musical little chuckle that made Jon’s tummy flip, “well..um…Jon…my name is Sansa…and I’m pregnant with your child.”





	Chosen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queenofthebees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/gifts).



> Because apparently donor baby fics are my 'thing' at the moment?! IDK?
> 
> Gifted to Debbie for being a relentless gift to the fandom herself!
> 
> Primarily for the 31 days of Jonsa event but also kind of fits the ricegate collection???

If Jon was being truthful with himself, he would admit that he should have seen his break up with Ygritte as a certain eventuality. He knew -he _knew_ \- that deep down she’d never change her mind on the whole _‘starting a family’_ front, and yet he’d stuck it out with her for over two years despite this knowledge.

It’s just that he couldn’t give up on that fundamental part of him – _his dream to be a father_.

It was after their rather _explosive_ final bust up, that Jon did something a bit… _rash_.

He didn’t stop to evaluate his actions when he’d made the appointment, he didn’t even think too hard on it when he’d filled out the form. When he was ushered into the little sterile room with a selection of DVDs, a TV screen and a cup to fill, he kind of just went through the motions – _as it were._ It wasn’t until he’d sat down the very next day that he made the horrifying realisation.

Ok yes, he’d donated his sperm to the fertility clinic – that didn’t mean he would get his _dream_ – it didn’t mean he would be a _Dad_.

Whichever woman looked favourably on his file and actually _chose_ his sample (if any did at all), was well within her rights to _not_ get in touch with him. It didn’t matter that he’d checked the little box that indicated he would welcome contact. He may be waking up one day to an 18-year-old stranger on his doorstep, his own grey eyes staring back at him.

So, if you were to ask Jon why it was he’d written down the clinic’s phone number, only to _not_ get around to phoning the _blasted_ thing ... Well, he wouldn’t have an answer for you.

He put it off, and he put it off, and he put it off some more until one day, only a month after he’d made his ‘donation’, he found himself finally giving the clinic a call…

“I see,” said the chirpy receptionist once he’d explained the situation – he’d made a mistake, he’d like to withdraw his donation from their register. He held his breath as he heard the woman tap-tap-tapping on the other end of the line. “ _Oh,”_ she breathed, and Jon felt his heart jolt at the sound, “oh dear….um…”

“What is it?”

“Well, you see, your donation has been…well…it was… _used_ , Sir.”

Jon’s throat went dry. _What?!_ All he could do was breath down the phone as his lips parted in surprise. _I’m going to be a father_?!

“ _Wow_ …um…looking at the file…your donation was selected _two days_ after it was made, I’m afraid Mr Snow…”

Still he could not bring himself to talk.

“If it’s any consolation, Sir-“ the woman continued, either taking pity on his stupor or misreading his silence for simmering anger about to boil over, “the mother has been on our register for quite some time.” Her next words were made in a hushed tone and Jon imagined her cupping the receiver so as not to be overheard, “she’s been notoriously fussy with all our other donor candidates, but it looks like she wanted to snap yours up straight away!”

Jon sighed into his hands once he’d hung up the call. _Be careful what you wish for, Jon. You just might get it._

Jon felt constantly on edge after that, like at any moment someone was going to inform him of an imminent nuclear fall-out and that he should have been preparing his underground bunker.

He was not, of course, preparing any kind of bunker. But no amount of tinned goods and recycled water could have prepared him for the _actual_ fall out that occurred five months later.

Jon rang the clinic back once he was sure that he’d remembered how to talk. He’d left them with every piece of available information on how he could be contacted – even going as far as to divulge his step-father’s sister’s cell phone number. If the mother of his child _ever_ wanted to get in touch, there would be _no way_ he was prepared to miss that.

_The mother of his child._

The thought still made his heart race and plummet at the very same time.

And then, on a deceptively ordinary day, he returned home to listen to a voicemail message that changed his life…

“Hello…um… _hi_ …” the woman cleared her throat. “Uh, you-you don’t know me – and feel free to completely ignore this message but….well…you _did_ check the box about future contact and you left a _really_ long list of phone numbers, so I kind of thought that…um…maybe…” she huffed, clearly annoyed at herself before letting out a musical little chuckle that made Jon’s tummy flip, “well..um…Jon…my name is Sansa…and I’m pregnant with your child.”

Two days later and Jon was sitting in a local diner, his fingers absentmindedly tearing a paper napkin into tiny little shreds as he watched the swing door entrance. He was going to meet the mother of his child for the first time.

_The mother of his child._

They’d had a somewhat stilted conversation over the phone, what with the both of them being full to the brim of nervous energy that had nowhere to go but down the phoneline, but they’d discussed her reasons for using a donor and skimmed over his reasons for becoming one. Jon found out that Sansa had dreamt of being a mother since she was a small girl but had given up on the hopes of finding the right man to settle down with.

He was itching to ask her why she picked him of all the donors available. _Why? Why him?_ But somehow the words never slipped past his lips and so the conversation steered towards their careers and their families instead.

Sansa had told him that she was rapidly heading towards the 6 month mark on her pregnancy journey, prompting Jon to google everything and anything he could find about that stage of development as soon as they’d hung up their call.

However, viewing a few dozen images on the internet of woman at the 6 month stage did not prepare Jon for what walked through that door.

The baby, it had _all been about the baby_ up until now, and for the first few seconds that ticked by as Sansa stepped into the diner, her head swaying this way and that as she was searching him out, his eyes _had_ homed in on that neat bump at her front. _That’s my baby._ But then he saw her face as she beamed in his direction, waving shyly before walking towards him.

Jon’s world shifted from beneath his feet and he felt unsteady in his seat when she set her crystal blue eyes on him. His lungs forgot how to breathe, his heart forgot how to beat, and his mouth apparently forgot how to speak as she neared his booth with the sweetest of smiles on her lips.

“Hello Jon.”

**Later that evening…**

**_Jon:_ ** _Sam, I have a problem. I REALLY big problem_

**_Sam_ ** _: Oh?_

**_Jon:_ ** _I think I’m in love with the mother of my child_

**_Sam:_ ** _I...have…a lot of questions_

**Author's Note:**

> I may expand on this with Sansa's POV if I get time!


End file.
